


brittle heart

by charmingwillow



Series: Shining Bright [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Melancholy, Seventh year, Taylor Swift inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmingwillow/pseuds/charmingwillow
Summary: She wished she could see the sky, or feel the full warmth of sun on her face. She wished she could indulge in the weather and curl up in her bed with a cardigan, tea, and a book.At the very least, she wished she could read the newspaper.Lily went to find her boyfriend instead...-Or, Lily and James have a quiet talk after a rough morning.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Series: Shining Bright [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899598
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	brittle heart

**Author's Note:**

> > I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best  
> But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me...
>> 
>> ...would it be enough if I could never give you peace...
> 
> -Taylor Swift, peace 

Under the silver clouded sky of the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling, Lily Evans sipped at a mug of milky tea and rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes with the sleeves of her school jumper. A yawn tumbled out but she smothered it, reaching for a slice of toast and tuning out the loud chatter of a group of nearby fourth year girls. 

Too early still, Lily thought, as she brought her mug to her lips again. The bitter flavor of the tea washed over her tongue, down her throat, warming the winter cold that still clung to the edges of her bones. Slowly— almost agonizingly so— it started waking her, enough that her yawns weren’t as deep or as frequent and, finally, she felt she could face the folded copy of the _Prophet_ that lay folded in front of her. 

Lifting her eyes in silent appeal to the sky above her, Lily clutched her mug to her chest and took a deep breath. The newspaper, at first or third or twentieth glance, was innocuous enough. Just parchment, tinted yellow with black ink running across its surface in glossy lines and swirls. 

Lily reached out a finger and brushed at its edges, freezing when it rolled enough for her to catch the main headline: an explosion, down in Sheffield— close to her home in Cokeworth but not quite, thank Merlin. 

Her hand fell short, flat on the table, barely an inch from the paper and Lily stared at it, breathing through the tightening in her chest and the cool beat of her heart. Fingers curling into a tight fist, Lily pulled away and sought out the enchanted sky once again, it’s watery brightness bringing her eyes to blink— blink away the burning in them.

Wind that she couldn’t feel moved the murky swirl of clouds above her; she watched the changing shapes, white blending into gray, gray opening to bursts of golden sunlight. She wished she could see the sky, or feel the full warmth of sun on her face. She wished she could indulge in the weather and curl up in her bed with a cardigan, tea, and a book.

At the very least, she wished she could read the newspaper.

Lily went to find her boyfriend instead, taking just a bit longer to savor the last hot gulp of her tea on the way out of the Hall. 

* * *

James Potter had a split lip with drying blood trickling down his chin and there was a wince in his smile when he spotted Lily. Despite the pain, his smile grew while she could only stop and stare at the scene before her. 

James’ bag lay at Lily’s feet, books spilling out. Still discarded from the onset of his brawl. He sat, elbows resting heavily on his knees, in one of the many window alcoves that lined Hogwarts’ corridors. His left hand gingerly cradled his right; his glasses were still askew and his hair was oddly flattened for once, not at all the chaotic mess she liked to tangle her hands in. It was as if a rough hand had gotten hold of him… 

Lily’s eyes drifted back down to James’ bag. Among quills and textbooks, a yellowed corner of the _Prophet_ poked out, baring today’s date. Her stomach dropped. “What happened?”

James’ smile was charming, his shrug endearing, even in his pain. “Ah, you know. Just some Slytherins who needed a refresher in manners.”

Lily raised a brow. “I didn’t know Slytherins knew muggle style fighting.”

“I don’t think it’s a style regulated between muggle and magic,” James said, frowning into the distance like a musing scholar. “When the adrenaline kicks in and there are close quarters, all bets are off. Instinct, you know.”

Lily didn’t like the image at all: James being cornered by a few burly Slytherins in this very alcove, tempers flaring, words scorching… their hate manifesting in grabbing him, hurting him… All while she’d sat in the Great Hall sipping tea and not able to summon the courage to read a newspaper. 

“James…” She stepped over his bag and took the hand that now reached for her. It was calloused, both from years of Quidditch and his wand, but strong enough that she felt anchored as soon as her fingers wove with his. 

Pulling her own wand from her robes, she conjured a handkerchief and dampened it. James let out a pained hiss when she tenderly dabbed against his lip but he allowed her to clean it, snaking his other arm around her waist while she did.

“What happened to them?” 

James shrugged again. “Filch came by, gave us all detention.”

“And where’re Sirius and Peter? Remus?” 

“Still at the dorm, probably…” James pulled away and wordlessly studied her long enough that she stopped cleaning his lip to look at him, unexpectedly flushing under his blue flecked hazel stare. “I saw the _Prophet_.” 

Sucking in a breath, she looked away, focusing again on his lip and the blood on his chin; it’d dripped down to the white collar of his shirt and knew right away that a damp handkerchief wouldn’t lift the stain and reached for her wand.

“Lily?” 

Ignoring James was sometimes a test of will; when he focused the entirety of his attention on her, it was hard to shake, as fifth year demonstrated two years before. She thought she’d be used to it now, several months into their relationship, but he could still take her breath away with just a glance and a thumb at her chin. 

Unable to resist, she glanced up at him, first into his eyes again before the flat shape of his hair caught her attention. Lily reached up and fluffed at it; strange relief unfurled in her stomach as his hair curled back into its rightful unruly state. 

“I’m fine,” she said softly, when James nudged his thigh against hers. “You didn’t have to— a physical fight, honestly, James.”

“It’s not like I started it,” James’ voice also dropped, taking on a hard edge of annoyance. “They saw me and started going on about you, and how I was a traitor for dating— you can’t expect me to just _let_ them say those things.”

Lily’s fingers stilled. “I don’t care what they say about me.” Except, it seemed, right now.

James reached up for her hand, bringing it against his chest, right over his ever steady heart. “Yeah, well I do. Always will.”

Sometimes James said something— something that held so much conviction that Lily wondered how he had room in his mind and heart for anything else— but Quidditch captain, head boy, corridor warrior, James Potter carried it all with ease. And still he found moments like these to weaken her knees. 

Meanwhile, Lily couldn’t bring herself to read a newspaper… 

Outside, the clouds shifted, bringing a beam of sunlight across them; the blue in James’ eyes sparkled like an ocean. His smile was soft, just for her, and even though it was marred, he was still beautiful. Lily took his face in her hands and stole a sun warm kiss. 

* * *

Whether Lily could bring herself to read today’s article didn’t matter; by mid-morning, she knew exactly what it said. She knew that a young couple from France— the woman a muggleborn, the man a second generation wizard— died in an explosion at the supermarket near their home. There weren’t any suspects but an investigation was pending. Even so, everyone knew who was responsible. Lily knew… and she was tired.

Everyday, there were articles like these— it was always a young couple, or a small child, or a happy family in the country... Everyday, Lily grieved silently, her well of empathy drained a little more each time a headline was splashed boldly across the paper. Everyday bits of her heart and dignity were chipped away by sneers and insults from people who believed their blood was superior to hers. Just walking to class, hand in hand with James, felt like running a gauntlet. 

Meanwhile, James withstood against it all, throwing himself into duels against these bigots, getting roughed up— and though his lip must have been painful, he didn’t show it as he nudged her in History of Magic.

Lily rested her chin in her hand as she stared out the window; her notes were all but abandoned and it was anyone’s guess what Binns was lecturing on. But James nudged again, so she tore her eyes from the hazy green mountains outside and found him pushing a musty library book open to a photo toward her.

James leaned in close, his fingers running reverently over the photo; Lily made out intricate architecture framing the miles of breathtaking landscape beyond the building. The photo was black and white but the hundreds of shades within it hinted at the real life beauty. 

“It’s in Jaipur,” James said, low so Binns couldn’t hear— not that it’d matter— but also, with how close he’d leaned in, only for her. “My mum’s grandmother came from around there. Kind of an ancestral home for us.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lily replied, chasing James’ fingers in tracing the painted stone arches. “I wish I could see the real thing.”

“We should,” James said right away, and she could hear the promise in his voice— this plan, for them, for their future. “One day, yeah? After the war.”

Lily’s finger froze. “After the war…”

“Mmm,” James smiled, the split in his lip straining, and he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. Sealing the promise. 

* * *

“ _After the war,”_ Lily scoffed later, at lunch, brandishing a goblet of pumpkin juice at Mary and Marlene. “As if it’s just going to up and end _tomorrow,_ just in time for a cheeky little gap year.”

Pumpkin juice sloshed out of the goblet, splashing dangerously close to Marlene’s sandwich; she scowled at Lily and pointedly pulled her plate out of range, which was just as well because Lily wasn’t finished.

“And the rate he’s going, duels and fights every other day, he’ll end up in St. Mungo's within a week so what’s the point!” 

“Shh!” Mary outright glared at Lily and cast a quick look around. Not many of their classmates were around, most in the library, taking advantage of the free time to cram in some extra studying. All the same, Lily felt a flush of shame for her outburst, especially when Mary pinned her with an unimpressed glare. “Don’t give anyone any ideas. And personally, I wish there were more James Potters in this school. I’m bothered less because of him.”

“Yeah, but—” 

“And who knows,” Marlene cut in, gentle optimism in her voice, “what if it does end soon?”

“I don’t…” Lily couldn’t finish because what she said set in. She closed her mouth and looked down at the remnants of her meal. 

Marlene ducked her head, trying to get into Lily’s line of vision. “Um. Are you okay?”

Sometimes, all Lily had was simple, helpless truth. “I don’t know...”

* * *

The weather seemed to have made up its mind: chilly wind brought gray clouds in, blocking the sun out completely. Rain threatened to spill onto the castle at any moment but it didn’t stop Lily from wandering the grounds. 

Though still snow capped from the long winter, the mountains had exploded into vivid green, with purple heather creeping up from their bases. Spring was almost finished, summer only a blink away. Lily found her way to the beech tree by the lake, and sat on the moist grass, taking in the silence.

Away from the bustle of school, with her classmates all on edge from their looming exams and the war, this spot almost felt like a pocket of peace. Lily pulled her robes tighter around herself and breathed in deep, feeling something inside her loosen.

The grass rustled behind her and she glanced around to find James, hands in his pockets, hair swayed by the wind, and frown pulling at his mouth.

“Alright, Lily?”

The day, though it was really only half of one, crashed down upon her at the question. Immediately, her lower lip wobbled, and James was kneeling beside her, taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad day,” she said into his warm chest, nuzzling against the soft knit of his school jumper. He smelled like broom oil and something earthy, comforting. “The world is on fire.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear when the wind pushed it over her face. “But what started your bad day?”

Lily traced a finger over a stripe of gold across his tie and thought back to the morning, where all she had was a cup of tea and a newspaper… “Everyday, there’s a new article and sometimes I just can’t…”

“Yeah,” James said. He rested his chin atop her head and sighed. “Same. It’s okay though. You don’t have to read them—”

“And you don’t have to get into fights,” Lily rushed on, louder than strictly necessary; she flushed from the feeling of confrontation. 

“Wait—” James pulled away a fraction and peered down at her. “I told you, they cornered me.”

“Because of what they said about _me_.” Lily dropped her hand into her lap, sitting up straight. “Right?” It took a moment, but when James nodded, Lily felt yet another bit of her heart crumble. “James— I don’t know how much of this I can take— you’re going to get hurt a lot, because of me.”

 _“No.”_ James’ eyes hardened, that familiar conviction of his settling into place like a shield. “It’s not because of _you._ They hurt me because they’re small minded and can’t see past their prejudice. They can’t see what I love.” 

Tiny, cold droplets of rain fell from the gray clouds. Lily stared at James, her throat tight, her heart thumping, unable to do anything but marvel at how he absolutely blazed— not just stereotypical Gryffindor honor; he breathed every word he spoke, and all Lily could do was offer up a quiet confession. 

“Sometimes I feel small compared to… _you.”_ She made a vague gesture at him, and at the perplexed tilt of his head, clarified. “I don’t deserve you, sometimes.”

James blinked, and then ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up to further disarray, and let out a sheepish laugh. “Are you kidding? If I had _half_ your compassion… And besides, I’ve heard you put a Slytherin or two in their place. And me. Slughorn calls you _vivacious_ you know.” 

That sent a shiver down Lily that had nothing to do with the cold rain. “Ugh.”

Laughing, James poked her side while she fended him off with a half-hearted swat whilst settling into him again. Their clothes were visibly becoming dampened by the rain; Lily could feel it flattening her hair, chilling her, and she knew they would have to go inside soon but felt content to sit there with James for a bit longer and watch the rain rippled lake. 

Peace, she thought again, just a small moment to escape from all the rest… Until James spoke up again, his words vibrating long where her back met his chest. 

“You know, I was sent out by Mary and Marlene.”

“They told you…” She wasn’t sure if she had the right to feel betrayed considering exactly what she’d said at lunch.

“You disappeared on them,” James countered gently.

“Bad day,” Lily defended, staring at the lake rather than meet his questioning eyes.

“So what caused this?”

Thinking of the picture James had shown her made her also think of his mother’s kitchen, bright and vibrant, the air seasoned by decades of rich spices. She wanted to know if the air in India smelled the same; she wanted to see his ancestral home, where his family’s magic originated, see if she could feel it in the air. She wanted to leave this cold island behind and escape to heat and color. 

And yet— she was already yearning for a future that seemed too far off, when their uncertain present hurtled forward. Lily looked out to the green mountains; summer was nearly there and with it, their fight.

“There’s a war,” Lily said carefully, “and you’re making all these wonderful plans and I _want_ to do them but I’m...terrified I won’t get to.”

Lily looked over at James, her eyes falling to his lip, the bruise that was forming under the curl of his lip. She reached up and brushed a finger under it and as James leaned into the touch, he sighed and admitted, softly, “me too.”

James bit his lip, right over the cut, and he took her hand, running his fingers over hers and then her palm, over and over. He was fidgeting, vulnerable now in a way he rarely let anyone else see. It softened everything inside her and made her press her hand to his rain slicked cheek to lean in for a quick kiss.

“We’re doing okay, right?” She asked when she pulled away; his eyes weren’t blazing quite as bright as earlier, but they were sincere, determined. 

“Yeah,” James said, gently swiping some rain from her face, his mouth pulling to the smallest of smiles. “Doing our best. We have dreams.”

“You have hope,” she said.

“You have strength,” he added and frowned at her light scoff. “No, really. You haven’t given up, even when you think you can’t do it. If that’s not strength then— I don’t know, I’ll give Sirius piggyback rides as Prongs for the entire summer.”

At that mental image, Lily snorted, and shook her head. “James. Charging into battle on a stag? You can’t give him that power.”

James glanced out beyond her shoulder, also conjuring what exactly his promise looked like, but seemed to like what he saw if his slow spreading grin was anything to go by. She poked his shoulder to get him back on track and he laughed but looked at her pointedly, booping a finger on her nose. “Okay fine, then get your shit together, Evans.”

Lily gave him a flat, unimpressed look which only made him laugh harder and— Christ, the sound of it made her weak. She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the grin forming but it was futile because he just hooked his finger under her chin and raised it. He was met with a scowl that threatened to break into laughter at any moment.

“Ah, there she is,” he said with his trademark shit-eating Potter Smirk, “Fiery Lily Evans, taker of none of my shit. Welcome back— c’mon, let’s get back in the castle and warm up. The day’s still young, we’ll get you a good day yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://charmingwillow.tumblr.com/)


End file.
